kiss with a fist
by ThePandorica
Summary: There are some things that even he won't teach her. - Arthur/Ariadne, oneshot.


_A kiss with a fist is better than none._

_-_**Florence and the Machine:**

-:-

_Dying._

It still scares him, even after all this time. No matter what method he decides to eventually kill himself with (although it usually ends with the press of cold metal against his skin and in icy silence,) he still hates himself when he wakes up. Cobb told him right before he started in this job, that killing oneself would never be easy, that it went against all human instinct to pull the trigger against your own skull when you were perfectly sane.

That's why he hates himself even more when he has to do it to her. The pleading look in her eyes right before he pulls the trigger, even though they both know that it's just a dream, wounds him every time. Yet he finds that he doesn't falter as his finger squeezes the trigger and she collapses before his very eyes. In a sense, after killing a teammate, turning the gun on himself is a little easier: but only just.

Kill oneself never gets easier.

-:-

"Arthur?"

It's a cold, September morning and the pale yellow sunlight filters down through the grime-ridden windows, scattering onto the floor below. It's just another day working on the Fischer job, and they're each finishing up on their respective pieces of work. He turns to face the petite architect with one hand in his pocket, whilst the other rests on his totem beside him.

"Yes Ariadne?"

He can see that she looks a little stressed, and he's about to ask if she's alright, when she blurts out her next sentence. He freezes, as the words compute in his brain, slowly, as though he can't quite believe what he's just heard.

"You want me to teach you how to kill yourself?" he repeats, still half shocked at her request, before clearing his throat sheepishly, obviously not wanting to startle her at his rather shocked response. He starts again. "Ariadne, are you sure about this? I can't just…teach you how to kill yourself. Besides, you don't want that much strain on your psyche when you wake up. It's not healthy," The words spill quickly from his lips, as though he's trying to convince her not to take this conversation further. She doesn't listen.

Her expression hardens into a determined mask and she leans forward. He can smell the light scent of her perfume – a sweet vanilla musk – but quickly pushes the scent to back of his mind. He frowns instinctively, and turns away from her, placing his hands on his desk and staring ahead of him.

"It won't be pleasant," he states suddenly, surprising even himself that he's even thinking about this.

"I know," he hears her reply shakily, and his heart drops for her. "It's just if things go wrong, I want to go in knowing that it'll be _me_ who'll wake myself up, rather than have one of the others do it for me, like they were forced to because I did badly-"

"Ariadne, nothing will go badly. Cobb trusts you too much. We _all_ know that you're more than capable for this job," he cuts in, turning back around to find that she's already sitting in a lawn chair, readying herself to stick the IV into her arm.

He stays put, reluctant to walk over to her and go under, but she sends another pleading look in his direction and already he can feel his resolve breaking. He knows that he shouldn't, that he _can't,_ but he knows that that won't stop her. Eventually, sighing, he makes his way over to her and takes the lawn chair adjacent to hers, picking up another IV that's lying in the open silver briefcase.

"I'm going to take this slow, so there's no need to rush okay? We've got five minutes," he explains, capturing her warm brown eyes with his own, before sliding the needle under his skin and sinking blissfully into the enveloping darkness.

-:-

They're in a field atop a steep craggy cliff, overlooking the sea. Instantly he knows that this is not his dream and that instead he's the mark and it's his subconscious that's filling the dreamscape. That makes things a bit more difficult but before he can say anything, Ariadne walks up beside him.

"Your projections won't be able to get up here," she says, as though trying to soothe him, but at the moment he is anything but relaxed.

"I shouldn't have agreed to this," he comments stiffly, now aware of the weight of a handheld automatic pistol resting in the waistband of his suit trousers. It sickens him.

"You're teaching me something valuable Arthur. Something that no-one else would,"

He freezes again, tilting his head to one side. "No-one else would? Who else have you asked?" he asks, forcing the words from his lips, already feeling his heart sink as he can guess the inevitable answer that she's going to reply with.

She shrugs in a blasé sort of way, even though a small shake in her hands betray her nervousness. "Cobb, Eames…Yusuf."

"And they all declined." It's not a question, but a statement as with horror he sees her nod silently.

"I thought you'd be the right one to teach me-"she begins, when he interrupts. Already he can feel his anger rising, and if any projections were here, they would have been on Ariadne in an instant.

"Teach you? Ariadne, let me get this straight. I can teach you mazes, paradoxes – tricks of the trade that are legitimate and that don't mess with your mind. Teaching you to kill yourself is- is…" he breaks off, finding himself at a sudden loss for words and also slightly surprised at his emotional outburst, when Ariadne fills the gap for him.

"So you're saying that paradoxes don't mess with my mind? That killing myself is much harder? Please, don't patronize me Arthur. I know-"but her last sentence is cut short by as he interrupts once more, his own sentences sounding short and clipped.

"You know _what_ exactly? You're good at what you do, I'll admit. Brilliant even – but I can't teach you how to kill yourself. …I'm sorry." He throws the last couple of words out bitterly as an afterthought, but already he can see the hurt that's etched across her face. He swallows, trying to wet his now dry throat and thinking what to say next, but the moment soon passes.

She shakes her head slowly and speaks in a hushed tone, her voice now shaking slightly, "And I for one, I thought you'd be able to understand. I'm _scared_ Arthur and I asked you to help because I remember the first time Cobb's subconscious got to me; what _Mal _did to me. You were there when I woke up; telling me that it would be okay, that everything was fine," she pauses, and Arthur swears that he can hear his own heart thumping away in his chest, before she starts again. "Shoot me, Arthur. If you won't teach me, shoot me – so at least I know what it feels like and I know what is going to happen, so that maybe when the time comes, I can do it to myself."

That last sentence cuts him like a knife, and even now, he is made more aware of just how vulnerable she is. Her slight frame is evident even though her jacket, scarf and jeans cleverly try to disguise that fact. Silence falls between the two of them, as he cautiously reaches towards the pistol in his waistband before holding it aloft. He watches as Ariadne shuts her eyes, and his heart twists as he flicks the safety off – the click echoing in the salty sea air – and she flinches.

"I don't have to do this you know, Ariadne. I don't have to shoot you."

He can see her jaw visibly tighten as she answers him, her voice barely audible above the sound of the wind. "_Just do it,"_

It takes him a second to raise the gun, aim and shoot. The crack of the bullet sounds sharply, as it travels through the air towards its target. But at the last second, by luck or planned fault, the bullet misses her temple by inches, yet she faints instinctively. Instantly he's there to catch her, scooping up her limp body in his arms, the pistol now strewn on the ground beside him. He waits for her to come around and as she does so, she hits him with as much strength as she can muster. He doesn't even flinch.

"Why did you miss?"

He shakes his head and sighs, before hoisting her up onto her feet, steadying her slight frame with his arm around her shoulders.

"There are much eloquent and easier ways to go, than on the receiving end of a bullet," he explains, but she looks up, confusion etched across her face. His eyes instantly dart toward the cliff edge and it doesn't take long until she catches on. Her eyes widen as she follows his gaze.

"Jump?"

He nods, and leads her silently over toward the edge but stops her before she can look down. Instead, he stands in front of her and places her hands down by her sides. "I find it works better if you don't look – makes it easier to jump,"

She nods in response, wordlessly. Her lips and face have drained of colour and he takes one last look at her.

"Are you ready, Ariadne?" he asks, worried that the pale architect is going to faint on him again at any moment.

"Don't let me go," she whispers, her mouth barely moving and the words only sounding above a whisper. Yet he hears them all the same, and on request, he steps forward and wraps his arms around her torso and pulls her close, his lips brushing her forehead.

"It'll be fine," he responds, before stepping back off the cliff edge, his own heart thumping wildly in his chest.

They fall: together.

-:-

**Fin.**


End file.
